Jackson Visitor Center - Final Weekend to Visit!

Yup, the Henry M. Jackson Memorial Visitor Center (JVC), whose design has been loved, hated, and debated since its opening in 1966, will welcome its last visitor on Sunday, September 28. It is closing to prepare for the demolition and move to the new JVC, which will open at 10:00 a.m. on October 10th. Between September 29th and October 9th, the Paradise Ranger Station (in the upper lot) will serve as the main NPS contact point at Paradise.

Here's some background on the now infamous "space saucer" of Paradise. The NPS commissioned its construction as part of a 10-year effort called MISSION 66. MISSION 66 set out to improve infrastructure and visitor services for NPS in time for its 50th anniversary in, guess what, 1966. The Paradise visitor center was originally known as the "Paradise Day Use Facility" until 1987, when it was re-named in honor of Washington Senator Henry "Scoop" Jackson. "Scoop" had originally secured congressional funding for the project and personally selected the architects.

The future of the oldJVC is significantly less promising. With the initiative to build a new visitor center came the $880,000 contract to demolish the JVC and rehabilitate the lower parking lot. Sometime late next year, you should be able to park your vehicle near the current information desk or bookstore. If the weather holds, this fall the contractor intends to start salvage operations of reusable materials and also carry out removal of fuel tank and hazardous materials. Final demolition will begin in the late spring of and will be completed by the end of the summer.

NOTE: If you're visiting the park this weekend, September 27 and 28, there are no entrance fees. The NPS is waiving fees on Saturday in celebration of National Public Lands Day and on Sunday in honor of newly naturalized United States citizens. The JVC at Paradise will be open from 10:00 a.m. – 6:00 p.m. through Sunday the 28th. Come on by, because it's your last chance to lounge in those creamy orange couches and chairs.

You need a chauffeur in Dubai

Especially during the summer months!



I arrived in Dubai in the middle of the night and the weather was a very warm 36C -- Yes, this is the temperature at midnight. I was already worried what the temperature will be like during the day. Obviously in the soaring 40's!



The record I think that I experienced was 45C, and I can tell you, Dubai in the summer months is like hell. It is a sweltering infierno and insanely humid. Water in the form of fog hangs in the air. It is futile to capture a clear sykline of Dubai because of this. Moreover, it is impossible to stand or walk outside for 5 minutes. Not even for 2 minutes! Walking under a covered walkway will make you sweat buckets. You need a chauffeur to bring you around otherwise you will melt!











Above picture is my chauffeur from my hotel. He's got a brand new Lexus, some parts of the car are still covered in plastic even. I have also used the normal taxi service from the streets but I have used him (the hotel chauffeur) twice.



If you do not have a car or cannot drive, you need to be driven around in Dubai. There is the metro available as well but I am not familiar with it and its impossibly hot outside to be walking to and fro the metro. Like I said, I almost melted! lol



Here are a few more pictures during my take off:









I flew with Emirates on an A380 (spacious and high tech)... and the picture above is the entrance to the first class cabins. Unfortunately I am flying coach which is not bad either because the seats were spacious enough. There are advantages when you are small hehe. Now I promised the Dutchman that I will take pictures of the A380, and this is so far the best that I can get. Much to the chagrin of many passengers including me, Amsterdam Schiphol Airport did not open the blinds at the gate area. There was no way we could take a good picture of the plane, but fortunately I managed to catch this shot before boarding in the tube's from its small window.



Flight Amsterdam to Dubai is approximately 6 hours 45 +- minutes.



The picture below is just before 1 o'clock in the morning when I arrived in Dubai enroute to my hotel. As you can see, Dubai is very much alive, but the question remains: Where are all these people going to after midnight? A Ramadan thing?







Interestingly at the Dubai Airport they have 'Pink Taxis' with a female driver specially available for the ladies. I do not mind riding a taxi with a male driver, but at the airport they automatically gave me a pink taxi with a lady driver. The taxis are coloured pink obviously and the lady drivers are dressed as well in pink. Cute, although pink is not a favourite colour of mine.



Different country, different religion, different rules. Fine with me.



On other news, I am in Singapore right now and my sleeping pattern is a total wreck =(

Spring Lightning

Last night saw the first lightning storm of the year come over Grand Portage Bay... at least, the first one that produced lightning strong enough to photograph. These images were captured from the beach in front of my house on Grand Portage Bay at about 1:30 a.m.

Thoughts on the Retrovelo Paul

I have been intrigued with the Leipzig-based Retrovelo since having discovered some photos of their bicycles online this past spring. Something about them suggested both quality and fun, with more than a touch of aesthetic fetishism. (I agree completely with Clever Cycles' suggestion that the colours "evoke lumberjacks and German shepherds and underwear")

Having recently learned that Retrovelo is sold in Vienna, it occurred to me that my velo-friend Anna - who has been considering a new bike for some time - might like to try one. Well, after test-riding this white Retrovelo Paul, Anna is seriously considering ordering the lady's version (Paula) and you can help her choose the colour here!

As for me, I did not test-ride one, as the frames in stock were too large for me. But I did sit on it inside the store and pedaled it for a distance of a couple of yards. I also spent a great deal of time ogling, touching, and photographing the bike, and have thus formed a few impressions which I outline here for those interested.

Seeing Paul in person, the impression of quality that I had gotten from the photos was, for the most part, confirmed. The bicycles are beautifully designed and seem to be very well constructed, with great attention to detail. You can read more about the gorgeous colour choices, the Schwalbe Fat Frank tires, and other aspects, on Retrovelo's website. The saddle is a Brooks B67, available in black or brown.

Retrovelo has the nicest lugs I have seen on a modern utility bike. I admit they are nicer than my Pashley's (which are a bit more plain). No headbadge though; just a sticker.

The seat cluster. Those who dislike the bolted rear triangle will especially appreciate this.

One of my favourite features in the Retrovelo is this triple plated fork. I think it's just beautiful and makes this bicycle stand out from others.

Chainguard with logo.

Proprietary bell - another nice touch. (That's me and Anna in the reflection.)

Awesome rear rack. This is my favourite rear rack design for a utility bicycle, seen on many older Dutch bikes and also on Velorbis. If anyone knows where I can buy such a rack just on its own, please let me know.

And here is the only part of the bike I am not crazy about: the stem and handlebar set-up. I would prefer a classic quill stem, and do not like that welded vertical tip of the stem joint that sticks out. I am also not wild about the very wide cruiser-style handlebars and would prefer the more elegant North Roads here. I know that the stem and handlebars are intentional design elements on the part of Retrovelo that are meant to evoke early mountain bikes - but what can I say, the look just does not appeal to me. If I were to get the Retrovelo, I would switch out the stem and bars to a classic quill and North Roads.

Judging by Anna's comments, the Retrovelo is everything it promises in terms of performance: a true beauty with the utility of a Dutch bicycle, the shock absorption of a first generation mountain bike, and the maneuverability of a sporty roadster. The fast Schwalbe Fat Franks make it a pleasure to ride over cobblestones. The dynamo-powered front and rear lights are super convenient. The hub gearing (3 or 7 speed Shimano hub) and brakes are practical and low-maintenance for all-weather city cycling. On the downside, the chain is not fully enclosed and the bicycle does not come with dressguards (though the latter can be easily retrofitted). Also, to my surprise, the bike was as heavy to lift as my Pashley (I had been under the impression that it would be lighter).

I am truly curious now to see (and hopefully ride!) the lady's version of these bicycles. Selfishly, I am hoping that Anna orders and receives her Paula by the next time I am in Vienna and permits me to ride it. Don't forget to help her choose the colour!

On Bicycles, Women and Politics

[image via Mattijn]

Today is the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day - what began as a European political movement in 1911, but evolved into what is now more like a "women's appreciation day," or, in the former socialist countries, a sort of Mother's Day and Valentine's day rolled into one. As ironic gestures, friends have sent me cards with messages such as "Woman, With Your Daily Acts of Goodness You Inspire Us!" showing a Polyanna-esque maiden feeding forest animals amidst flower blossoms.



[image via I am Cheapskate]

ThoughI am fairly well versed on genderin the academic sense, I did not personally care much about gender "issues" until I became interested in bicycles and cycling. Something about the latter turned the former into a more poignant topic, and I find myself writing about gender-oriented themes here that would not have been on my mind a few years ago. I feel vaguely unsettled about the way female cyclists are perceived and depicted by the very cycling community they belong to. I get the same feeling of unease from the pictures on Copenhagen Cycle Chic as I do from that Woman's Day card showing the angelic girl feeding forest animals.



[image via Julie Tjorneland]

Equally distasteful to me is the school of thought that women cyclists "bring it upon themselves" by being all sexy and frivolous on their bikes wearing skirts and high heels. If they want to be taken seriously as cyclists, they must don practical shoes and high-vis wear. It's been decades since similar rhetoricabout womenhas been acceptable in Western society. But apparently the cycling community is an exception.



[image via R A C]

Besides, don't roadies and tri-athletes wear far more revealing clothing than women going grocery shopping in a dress and heels? At the heart of it, it's really all about how one chooses to twist it politically, which in turn is based on personal preferences and prejudices.



[image via macfred64]

And what is the difference between politics and personal philosophies? Let's Go Ride a Bike has a post today where they ask "Is bicycling political?" - which I think is more or less a trick question: a contemporary truism, whereby any "no" answer will inevitably be demonstrated to be just as political as a "yes" answer. It reminds me of the arguments I had in college with people who would tell me that being a woman is political, whether I wanted it to be or not. According to those arguments, everything I do is inherently politicalbecauseI am a woman, and I have no way of escaping that. But don't I?



I think that in order for the political question to be addressed meaningfully, we have to distinguish the way others perceive us from our inner world - and while the two are connected, they are not one and the same. Any action on our part, as well as our very existence, can be perceived as political by others. But if we don't experience it politically, then it is a basic human right for our inner experience to be recognised as valid. A woman's cycling and her gender may be politically perceived by others, but they may not be politically experienced by her - with both points of view having equal merit.

Pink Elephant Balloon

The Other Side of the Road

Back in Boston for a few days, I am in re-adjustment limbo - feeling tentative, not altogether present. Everything here is so familiar - the roads, the sounds, the smells, the people. And at the same time it all feels utterly strange, as if replaced with a hologram of the real thing. A muggy heat engulfs me when I exit the airport, giving the landscape that hazy, blurry, flickering look.



In this disoriented state, I decide to join my cycling club's Tuesday morning 100K ride. I need to feel more solid, planted, integrated into reality - and I realise this is the best way I know how. The thought irritates me. Since when did cycling turn into this? This... defining thing, this part of my chemical composition?



In the morning, logistics are irrelevant. I pull together a mismatched outfit from the hamper. I don't have my roadbike, so I grab the cyclocross bike that still lives at my house. And then I push off - on the right ("wrong!" my brain screams) side of the road, in morning commuter traffic. On autopilot, I weave my way to the Ride Studio Cafe and the miles between us disappear.



No one knows I am coming, not evenPamela. Reluctant to admit to myself that I miss her, I nonetheless watch the door in anticipation, until there she is - platinum braids thick as ropes,tanned slender limbs,Southern accent and all. She is duly surprised by my presence and we talk in bursts, in the way of friends who have not talked in some time. "You think I'll be okay on this bike?" I point to the fat all-terrain tires. Pamela waves it away nonchalantly, as if to say "Bikes! What do they matter. Let's go."



Of course everyone but me is on skinny tire racing bikes. The thought that this might be brutal drifts through my mind.The Tuesday rides are described as "social pace," but of course for me that means "best effort pace."My eyes are swollen from lack of sleep and my legs ache from the sum of all earlier rides. I realise that brutal might actually feel good right about now. Again, I am irritated at the thought. Now why would brutal feel good, what on earth is wrong with me?



It is obscenely hot and the turnout is low today. The 5 of us set off in a single file and stay that way for most of the ride. Remarkably, I am in the middle of the group, rather than struggling behind it. My legs turn the pedals as I play a little game I learned in Ireland, called "same cadence, bigger gear." It is a fun, but painful game. I have played it for 10, 20 miles at a time before. Today I would play it for 60.



We arrive in Harvard, MA, eat lunch, then climb to the Fruitlands. On top, we stop at the side of the road to take in the view of surrounding mountains. After Northern Ireland, this strikes me as funny, that there is a specific destination with "the view." Over there, the landscape is so open that the view is everywhere. As you're riding, you can see for miles and miles - undulating glens, the sea, the entire Sperrins mountain range, even the hills of Donegal across the water. By contrast New England is so woodsy that you seldom see beyond your immediate surroundings; it is as if you are riding through a tunnel the entire time. Psychologically this feels very different. Riding through forests turns me inward; riding through glens opens me up.



The descents here feel tame compared to what I've been doing in previous weeks. On the other hand, the condition of the roads is even worse than I remembered - enormous cracks, ridges, gaping ditch-sized holes in the crumpling pavement - stunning when you're not used to it. But the texture of the pavement itself is smoother. In Ireland, the tarmac is a sort of chipseal, its surface nearly as rough as gravel at times.



By the afternoon, the heat has reached its apex and we all feel it. We start to take breaks now. We groan, we pour water over our jerseys. I am drained, but also lulled into a pleasurable trance by the intense scent of pine trees in the heat - this is something I've missed.My legs are leaden and I am caked in salt, but I give it one last push, inspired by Scott's relentless pace. Scott is a strong rider, whose compact, muscular body looks like a purpose-built machine when he pedals. I focus on staying on his wheel. Even though I know he is controlling his speed for my sake, just being able to follow him like this feels unreasonably good. Then I push further still and lead for the last couple of miles.



Back at the club house I hear "Hey, you're back!" The familiar voices are as welcome as the blast of air conditioning that greets us. Suddenly shy from the attention and the disconcerting sense of ...what's the word I'm looking for, belonging? I mumble "Yes... Well no, I'm only here for a couple of days." But with my legs weighing me down, Pamela sipping iced coffee at the bar, and the jungle of bikes suspended from the ceiling, I do start tofeel more grounded, and Boston starts to feel realer.